Hugo Weasley's Infamous Willy
by luvscharlie
Summary: Since her days at Hogwarts, Lavender Brown has always wanted a Weasley willy of her very own. Hugo Weasley, unlucky bloke, is up for a charity auction. Hugo/Lavender


_Hugo Weasley's Infamous Willy_ by Luvscharlie

_Warnings/Author's Notes: Originally written for the 2012 hp_nextgen_fest on Live Journal for a prompt of "Lavender can't help comparing Hugo to his father". Warnings: A very baudy and drunken Lavender, traumatised Hugo, adult language and sexual innuendo, age disparity- I'd rate it a light R._

As they walked into the Witch's Broom, Lavender and her best friend, Parvati, were both handed paddles with numbers on them. Lavender's had 95 printed upon the paper paddle in bold, black letters. Parvati's paddle bore the number 94.

"What the hell are these for?" Lavender asked. "You said we were coming here to get plastered and stare at men. If you expect me to spank someone with this—well, he better have a nice bum, and a mum fetish would be nice or else this relationship is going nowhere."

"Speak for yourself!" Parvati retorted. "You're only as old as you feel, and I'm young and beautiful. No need to take me down with you, you old stick in the mud… though I do like the way you're thinking with the paddling. I knew there was some kink left in you, love."

Lavender gave her paddle a good look over. "Well, I won't be able to do much in the way of swinging. These flimsy things are made of paper. When I wallop a man's bum, I want to leave a mark."

Parvati raised an eyebrow. "Did you start drinking before I got there to pick you up?"

"Maybe a few. I always need some alcohol to strengthen my resolve whenever I go anywhere with you. I find you more tolerable if I'm tipsy." She paused as if to reflect. "Thoroughly pissed, I even like you sometimes."

Parvati drew in her breath with a gasp. "Really? Is that any way to talk to your best friend, the girl who stands by you when you're stupid and vapid, the only one who truly knows you?"

"No, I'd be nicer to my best friend. _This_ is how I talk to _you_."

"I'd be hurt if I wasn't convinced of your undying love for me." Parvati nodded towards Lavender's paddle. "That's for making bids."

"Bids? Bids on what? Is the pub having some kind of ridiculous auction to raise money for some stupid charity? Because you know how I feel about that!"

"Your sense of duty in giving is unmatched," Parvati deadpanned. "Really, you should receive an award for that kind heart of yours."

They made their way inside the pub and Lavender followed Parvati's lead to a small table in the corner towards the front.

"Well, really, how long has it been since the bloody war? I mean, you can only milk a cause for so long before the well runs dry."

"Wells and milk. Really? That's the best you can do in the realm of analogies? I'm disappointed. You might have at least included some water and a cow." Lavender rolled her eyes and Parvati went on. "Besides this auction doesn't have a thing to do with the war."

"Really? Wizards went and got original. I highly doubt it. But, I'll bite. What is this auction for?"

"Homeless children." The rest of the sentence was said in a low mumble. "Of the children of war victims."

"What was that?" Lavender asked.

Parvati ignored her. "Shut up. Look on the bright side. The Galleons go for a good cause and we're bidding on hot men."

"I'm tired of giving money to a 'good cause' and—wait, what was that about hot men?" Lavender held up the glass on her table as a waiter came by to fill it with white wine.

"It's a bachelor auction. We're here to bid on dates."

Lavender downed her wine. "As in dates—take me to Madam Puddifoot's and get me a cup of that disgusting tea- dates? Or—" Lavender raised up from her chair and thrust her hips forward lewdly gyrating—"take Mumma home and show her a good time kind of date?" She grunted and ran her tongue over her lips seductively.

Parvati reached across the table and took Lavender's glass away. "Okay, that was just disturbing. Stop that!"

"You brought me here. I owe you nothing, and I plan to have a good time. Bring on the man meat."

Parvati shuddered with repulsion. "Merlin, nobody even says that. You're intentionally trying to embarrass us both."

"No, not both of us. Just pretty much you. What kind of a friend brings you to a place where men are auctioned off?" She pondered that for a moment. "Well, when you say it out loud, if I'm being fair, which you don't deserve in the least by the way, you're not sounding like such a bad friend. Will they be naked?"

Parvati shook her head, making Lavender a little sad. "Well, a girl can dream." She reached for her glass back, but the alcohol had dulled her reflexes and Parvati held it away. "How are we supposed to know what man to buy if we can't see the goods beforehand? You know, he might have a tiny willy, and that'd be an awful disappointment. What if I paid good Galleons for a man and he had a tiny little willy?"

"You're not paying to sleep with him. This is a charity auction, not the local brothel. His willy size does not matter."

"Screw that!" Lavender shouted, drawing the disapproving looks of several people at surrounding tables. "Have we got one of them brothels around here? Let's go there." She scowled at Parvati. "And in what circumstance—_ever_—does willy size not matter? It _always_matters!"

Parvati's normally lovely brown skin, which Lavender envied, was turning an unflattering shade of red. "I think this might have been a mistake. Maybe we should go." Parvati stood and began to yank Lavender up from her chair, but the overhead lights grew dim and the stage lit up with candles, spotlighting the host of the show.

Lavender whistled baudily, shouting, "Oh yeah, bring on the men!" She was waving her paper bidding paddle around furiously.

The host, a handsome young man, chuckled at Lavender's antics. "Are you bidding on me, madam? I'm rather expensive."

"Show me your willy and we'll see if you're worth it!" Lavender shouted back. She was distraught to come to the realisation that this man was young enough to be her son. That was happening more and more, and each time it was equally depressing. Aging was a bitch.

The host turned the same shade of red as Parvati. He did try and recover, to his credit. "It's nice to see so much enthusiasm in our audience. We are certain to raise ample funds for the orphans and—"

Lavender interrupted. "Widows, orphans, war—yadda, yadda, yadda—we've heard this a million times. BRING ON THE MEN!"

The poor flustered host chose not to fight the valiant fight any longer. He was losing and was smart enough to realise it. "Okay, then. Our first eligible bachelor hails from Godric's Hollow and is the son of the famous Harry Potter." Albus Potter strutted across the stage, flexing his small muscles and trying to look dashing.

Lavender snorted loudly and looked across the table at Parvati. "Seen his dad's little willy. So not interested." There was a slight titter of laughter that moved through the crowd.

The host did his best to sell Al's attributes, but Lavender's disparaging comment clearly had a negative affect on the bidding. Poor Al Potter was bought by a woman wearing a t-shirt with his father's picture on the front for a mere two Galleons.

Her comments had the same negative affects for the next two boys to make the unfortunate trek across the stage.

Then came Hugo Weasley, looking the spitting image of his father, strutting across the stage. "Holy fuck!" Lavender screeched, waving her paddle about and climbing on top of the table before Parvati could stop her. "This one's mine! He's got a Weasley willy and he's coming home with Mummy!" She teetered on her heels, but stayed upright by sheer determination to take home a man named Weasley.

Unfortunately for Lavender, just as her negative comments had cut the prices of the men who came before Hugo, her elation got the majority of the other women in the pub worked up into a frenzy of excitement. One, in particular.

Lavender started the bidding by waving her paddle around madly, jumping on the table and screeching her excitement. She bid 500 Galleons right away.

Another lady, buoyed by Lavender's excitement, topped her by five.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Lavender screamed, shaking her paddle menacingly. "You take that back! That's my Weasley willy. Not yours!"

Up on stage, poor Hugo looked terrified… with good reason. In fact, he started to inch off the stage, but Lavender pointed at him. "You. Stay!" He froze obediently. "Good boy."

She gave the opposing bidder her fiercest glare and bid 1,000 Galleons. The opposing bidder countered Lavender's glare with a smirk and a bid of 1,001.

Lavender jumped down from the table, landing pretty impressively given the alcohol and the height of her heels, and rolled up her sleeves. "That's it. You asked for it. This lady—and I use that word only for the sake of politeness—is about to need the Healers to extract my foot from her big fat arse."

The woman grabbed her paddle and smartly ran out the door. She seemed to know that Lavender meant business. Lavender grinned at her retreating back and made her way onto the stage, which was completely forbidden, but there was no one in the pub brave enough to challenge her.

Hugo's eyes were wide with terror as Lavender approached. She launched her drunken self at the poor boy, all grace gone. She stumbled towards him, and he had no choice but to catch her as she went down. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't a very good catcher. He missed, Lavender stumbled and grabbed, her fists clinching the material of his trousers, and taking them down with her.

She looked up drunkenly and smiled. "Worth every Knut," she said with a sigh. "Just look at that Weasley willy. It's beautiful."

Poor, traumatised Hugo stood there frozen in place, his very impressive willy waving like a large flag to the women in the audience.

* * *

Hugo Weasley didn't want for a date for years. His reputation, and that of his willy, were infamous from that date forward.


End file.
